Cyan's post

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I was created within the system, just like the others. My mind took form within a computer program, developed to the point that I would not require the developement of a true-born mortal. I would have no birth, no infancy, no childhood. I would not experience the awkwardness of puberty and the sense of coming of age. I would just be, an adult mind within a full grown reproduction of human flesh and bone. A clone.

Yet as I record these words, memories plague me. I can not be certain that they are my memories. For sure the owner of these memories does not look how I do now and they both seem confusingly to seem like mine, but not mine at all. It begs the questions, if the memories are mine, how did my mind become trapped within the system, to be reprogrammed into that of a clone's? Of course, if the memories are not mine, how did they come to be within my cerebelum? These are futile questions, unimportant, in the scheme of things. For at this moment in time, my existance is hanging upon a loose thread, threatened by hostile entities that lurk in this endless desert I feel trapped within.

I've been told to head for a city, where apparently I will be safe, but that is only if I can get past the Chrome Hand Crusher whom is lurking upon the otherside of this jagged rock, seeking me... seeking blood... seeking... oh hell!

Sand. Dusty golden sand. I hate sand! It's endless with its tall, upswept dunes, impossible to climb. My footprints vanish in a blast of wind. If it were not for the mapping and location technology within my helm, I would have been lost days ago, my corpse left to the baking sun and whatever scavengers were lurking nearby. Instead I must continue to face the sand.

Ha, I keep expecting to see the line of the ocean appear on the horizon, expecting to smell the salty scent upon cool ocean breezes. Why? I know this land to be of sand. Sure a smattering of buildings break the monotunousy of it all, the light gleeming off of them, blinding the observer, should she not be careful, but I fail to see them when my mind turns to the sea. And then I realise, the echoes of those memories are twisting my mind, I can't think straight! I just want to scream!

The ugly toad sneaking up behind me doesn't stand a chance. It's head rolls to one side, staring at me with its bulbous eyes. Stop it! But the lashings do nothing to stop it! Kicking it doesn't help either, why wont you p*** off! Stop looking at me like that! Finally nothing but a bloody pulp remains. Stupid. What did I do that for? I back away from it, further and further as the sand begins to reclaim it's minion. Then nothing. Nothing to proove my loss of control. Nothing, but the memory. I take flight. I cannot stand this place any longer. I cannot. But the sand, it never ends...